The Dark Half
by Mark Heavens
Summary: Joran Roth is one of the fallen, Jedi who have strayed from the path but who have not given themselves fully over to the dark side. However unlike his fellow brethren Joran has the ability to draw upon both sides of the force. PART 3 UP! Reviews welcome.
1. Part I

THE DARK HALF  
  
To most people the force is something intangible, they can't see it, they can't smell it and they can't touch it yet they know it exists. It surrounds them, it binds them, it holds the world they know in balance.  
  
For a few it is a means of power, a destructive tool to be used to gain what they desire, to elicit fear and control over people. For others it is a source of wisdom and those who wield it have a responsibility to use it for knowledge and defence, for the collective good of everyone.  
  
To Joran Roth, it was both these things.  
  
  
  
It was noisy, bright and crowded. Most unlike the rest of the Cantina's that Joran Roth had visited during his short stay on Cambrie. He slowly walked over to the bar that ran the length of the wall to the right of the main entrance and seated himself on a vacant stool. His gaze scanned the length of the bar taking note of the four people behind it who were busily serving drinks to the locals and the vast number of assorted liquor bottles that hung behind them in a dazzling array of multicolours. While his eyes took in the detail before him the rest of his mind scanned through the crowd that had gathered tonight, searching…  
  
Through the force he was able to pick out each individual and gently touch their mind, human minds were warm and familiar and he had no trouble scanning their surface thoughts, the alien minds were different, some were so cold and dark he dared not touch them too deeply for fear of being overwhelmed by them. Others were just unreadable, like a book in a foreign language, but although he could not understand them he could still gage their mood and general awareness of things around them.  
  
The mood in the Cantina that evening was tense, although outwardly everyone was calm, they were laughing and joking and pretending not to care about the people at the next table, inwardly they were jumpy. Most were just being cautious but some were scared, some were on a hair-trigger, waiting… waiting for him.  
  
Rodian, Wee Quay, two Duros and a human. They were sitting at the far end of the Cantina and they were expecting someone, them, and… someone else, someone elusive and even as he tried to lock in on that one mind it skirted away from him as if disappearing into the shadows.  
  
"What'll it be?" a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"Lomin ale," he replied giving the bartender a quick once over, tall, muscular and more than capable of crushing some skulls if necessary. When the bartender brought his drink to him he paid for it and took a sip of the green frothy liquid idly glancing around the bar once more. Again he centred his attention on he group in the corner, yes they were defiantly the ones he was looking for, there faces clearly matched the pictures on the warrants he had been given. Well he thought, there are two ways to do this, the easy way and the hard way, standing up he decided that the hard way was always more fun.  
  
Slowly almost casually he wound his way through the knots of people and tables in the cantina and strode up to the table in the corner before stopping dead. The group at the table had noticed his approach and he noticed had dropped at least one hand below the level of the table, all apart from the human. "Can I help you?" the human enquired.  
  
"Are you Darven Felth?" Joran asked in an ice cool tone.  
  
The dark haired human smiled at Joran. "Perhaps, if I am what can I do for you?"  
  
Very slowly so not to trigger a premature light fight, Joran reached into his jacket and withdrew a pair of binders and a Republic warrant. "You can put these on and come with me back to Alderaan where you will stand trial for the murder of Aaron Nurbier," Joran told Felth throwing the binders onto the table.  
  
Felth laughed, a deep throaty sound that threatened to all but drown out the rest of the cantinas patrons. While it was not as loud as the rest of the chatter coming from the various humans and aliens, it was loud enough that everyone stopped talking and focused their attention on Felth and his coterie. "Really?" he said sounding amused. "You and who else?"  
  
"Me," a voice said from deep in the opposite corner of the bar.  
  
Joran didn't turn toward the voice like the rest of the cantina, he didn't need to. The presence that he had first detected when he had entered the cantina a few minutes ago, the one he had not been able to pin down, it now became abundantly clear as to who it had emanated from. A Jedi.  
  
The tall Dark robed figure detached itself from the opposite wall and slowly walked over to stand beside the table. Felth sat in the middle of the long rectangular table with his back to the wall; the Rodian and Wee Quay were on his left while the two Duros were seated on his right. "And just who are you?" Felth asked.  
  
"Someone who wants to see justice done," said the figure pulling back the hood of his cloak and opening his robe much the way a gunfighter does just before he draws. The mans fair hair was short, only about a half an inch long and he had the sort of unblemished square jawed face that gave the impression of youthful naivety. His dark eyes however betrayed that fact somewhat, although Joran was relatively sure the Jedi was not much past twenty five standard years of age his eyes told him he had seen a lot in his time.  
  
Felth took his time in looking the Jedi over, his eye's widening when he saw the sleek metal cylinder hanging from the Jedi's waistband. The Rodian's ears twitched and he babbled something at Felth in Rodian. Felth looked up at the newcomer, "It seems you have inspired fear in my friend here with that little trinket of yours," he said defiantly, although his eyes betrayed him.  
  
"You don't think it's real?" the newcomer asked in a neutral tone.  
  
Felth sat in silence for a second weighing his options, on the one hand if this stranger was bluffing and he was not a real Jedi then the fight would be over in short order, however if he was a Jedi… would death be preferable to a lifetime in prison? And even if he was a Jedi, the numbers were five to two in Felth's favour. "Let's find out," Felth said reaching his decision.  
  
Before anyone else in the bar knew what had happened there was a double snap-hiss of noise and two brilliant shafts of light came to life as Joran and the other Jedi ignited their lightsabers. Less than a second later there was the bark of blaster fire and the flashing blades moved faster than anyone thought possible to intercept the bright scarlet bolts that appeared from underneath the table.  
  
Acting purely on instinct Joran jumped up onto the table his silvery/purple blade at the ready and slashed at the Wee Quay who was even now binging his blaster up to bare on Joran. The sabers blade cut across the Wee Quays shoulder severing the arm that held the blaster, by this time the Rodian had brought his weapon above the level of the table.  
  
Joran easily deflected the blaster bolt into the ceiling and getting a firm force grip on the Rodian he picked him up out of his seat and hurled him forcefully across the room to crass into the far wall. The Wee Quay, now minus one arm, was still recovering from the shock, but already he was scrabbling for his spare blaster with his good arm, Joran's swift kick to his head that lapsed him into unconsciousness put pay to that idea.  
  
Spinning round he focused his attention on the rest of the occupants of the table. The mystery Jedi had done an admiral job of taking care of the two Duros and he saw that they were slumped in their seats, Felth however was hanging in midair, held tight in an invisible grip, his hands were bound to his side and his blaster lay shattered in pieces on the floor.  
  
"Nice work," Joran told his ally.  
  
"Thank you," the Jedi replied.  
  
Suddenly Joran's Jedi senses began to tingle and a second before the eight men entered the bar Joran detected them. Four of them charged across to the far side of the bar finding what cover they could amid the chaos and panicking customers who were scrambling for cover themselves. The remaining four stayed by the door way and started pouring blaster fire in their direction.  
  
Dropping Felth roughly to the ground the mystery Jedi spun on his heel and brought his silvery/white saber up to block the incoming volley of laser fire. "I'll take the ones by the door, the rest are yours," he told Joran before striding purposely forward.  
  
Joran already busy deflecting blaster fire of his own didn't bother replying, jumping down from the table he too strode forward.  
  
As what was undoubtedly Felth's backup continued to light up the cantina with scarlet bolts of death, a young women came up from behind an overturned table and made a run towards the exit. She didn't make it, a stray blaster bolt caught her in the lower abdomen and she crumpled to the ground.  
  
Anger fired inside Joran as he saw the women go down, anger, hatred, aggression; the dark side of the force flowed through him and he wilfully let it guide his actions. Shifting his lightsaber to his right hand he extended his left and with a gesture crushed the rightmost attacker's larynx. Turning his attention to the next nearest aggressor, and while still blocking blaster shots, he took a firm hold of the aggressors blaster in a force grip and pulled, as a look of disbelief crossed the mans face the blaster sailed across the room and landed in Joran's outstretched hand. Closing his finger around the trigger he unloaded it into the man who it had once belonged to before discarding it.  
  
The two surviving men seeing what had happened to their colleagues started to back off a bit but Joran was in no mood to give them that chance. Letting the force guide him he took a step forward then leaped into the air and somersaulted across the room to land in-between the two men. Later he reflected he could have almost felt sorry for them, almost. The purple blade slashed out once decapitating the man on the right, while a motion with his left hand sent the other man flying into the wall with such force as to break his neck and sever the spinal chord.  
  
Panting and surprisingly short of breath Joran surveyed the carnage he had just caused and a shutter ran down his spine. Beware the dark side. Glancing across the room he saw the other Jedi had just as swiftly subdued his foes. "I see you let yours live," Joran commented.  
  
"I see you didn't," the Jedi replied in a slightly strained voice.  
  
Slowly Joran regained his focus, taking a deep breath he let the dark side flow out of him just as quickly as it had risen up, reaching deep down inside of himself he found a place that the dark side could not touch. A memory that was so pure it could never be corrupted. Carefully he crossed over to where the woman who had been shot had fallen and clearing aside the rubble of a broken table he knelt beside her.  
  
"How is she," the Jedi asked.  
  
"Not good, the wound's nasty. Do you have any skill with healing?" Joran asked.  
  
"Very little I'm afraid," the Jedi replied regretfully.  
  
"Then I'll do what I can. In the meantime make sure they've called a med team." The Jedi nodded his accent and then moved off leaving Joran alone with the women in the middle of the bar. The rest of the cantina's patrons had picked themselves up and were staring with interest at Joran.  
  
Focusing as best he could, he reached out and placed a hand on the woman's  
  
wound, closing his eye's he stretched out with the force, probing the wound. The bolt had caught her low in the stomach and had ruptured several arteries as well as punctured the stomach wall, the wound was still bleeding heavily. Reaching deep inside of himself he found his centre, the core of his being, his life force. Breathing heavily he focused that energy and then reached out to the woman, using the force he willed the wound to clot and slowly the blood flow ceased. Concentrating heavily he became one with the force, became one with the woman and reaching out he transferred a little of his life force over to her.  
  
That done he sat back exhausted, and almost collapsed. He glanced up at the Jedi who wore a concerned look on his face. "I've done what I can, I think I've stabilised her condition enough so she should have a good chance of making it."  
  
"The med techs are on their way, it shouldn't be long."  
  
Slumping on his back he rolled up on to his shoulder and looked at the woman, she was slim and dark haired and despite her wound an almost peaceful look played on her face, only the rise and fall of her chest hinted at her being alive.  
  
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Outside the Cantina the night was dark, very few lights were on and the moon cast a ghostly glow overhead. Joran Roth sat on the edge of the Cantinas roof, his legs dangling over the side and hoped that the women would be okay, as below him the medical transport lifted into the air and sped off towards the nearest hospital. The fact that she had been hurt gnawed away at him, it was his fault. He had gone ahead blindly, sure that he could handle whatever they were likely to throw at him, what he had not considered was the fact that the people who were shooting at him would not hesitate if a civilian got in the way.  
  
For the past four years he had been on his own, thinking of himself, not caring about others, dwelling in the past, not living in the present. Although deep down he knew she would be angry with him for the way he had spent the last four years, he was not ready to join the rest of the galaxy yet, there is was something he had to do before he could start to live his life again. However that does not mean I can ignore the plight of others, he chided himself, especially those who have done no wrong.  
  
This revelation surprised him, but not because of its message but because it had taken so long for it to come to light, and the fact that it had taken an innocent getting hurt to do that spoke poorly of what he had become. What was worse than that however was the fact that he knew that over the past years countless people had needed his help, his protection, but he had been too wrapped up in himself to notice. Idly he wondered why now, why was he realising this now, was it something to do with the force, was it a sign of some sort?  
  
Shaking his head he decided it didn't matter, he should have protected her, it was his fault.  
  
"No, it was our fault," a voice said from out of the darkness as if reading his mind.  
  
"How do you figure it was your fault, you were at the other end of the cantina."  
  
Stepping up onto the roof the dark robed figure strode over to Joran and took a seat beside him. "Because I am a Jedi, I am sworn to protect the innocent and the fact is that I helped precipitate that fight. I failed to take into account the fact they may have had reinforcements."  
  
"What you're saying is like most Jedi you stuck your nose into someone else's business that didn't concern you," Joran said flatly turning his head to look at the man.  
  
"The pursuit of justice concerns me," the Jedi replied.  
  
Joran paused to consider this then smiled. "How is the woman?"  
  
"The medical team say she'll make it, although she will be in a bacta tank for a while."  
  
"Well at least she'll live from our mistakes. And by the way I do appreciate the help, really." Holding out his hand he introduced himself properly. "Joran Roth."  
  
"Orin Vorn" the Jedi replied taking Joran's hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you. But you'd better ask your question before it eats you alive," Joran replied.  
  
"Are my feelings that transparent?"  
  
"Only to force users," he said grimly.  
  
"What are you Joran Roth?" Vorn asked. "You're not a Jedi, at least not anymore."  
  
"No, not anymore," Joran replied with a touch of regret. "I am one who has fallen."  
  
Although Vorn had clearly been expecting that as a possible reply, surprise still showed on his face, and puzzlement. "How long?"  
  
"Four years now. I have been off the path for four long years."  
  
Now Vorn was clearly confused. "You used the Dark side. You have in the past four years?"  
  
"When needs must."  
  
"Then you are corrupted… but… then how could you heal that women? The two sides of the force cannot exist side by side, at least not for that long without you bowing to one side or the other."  
  
Joran gave a grim smile. "Can't they? Ask Master Dooran?"  
  
"No, for if you start down the dark path forever will it dominate your destiny." Vorn protested.  
  
"I never said it did not dominate my destiny," Joran said rising to his feet. Slowly he ambled over to the roofs exit before turning back to Orin who had watched him go. "However just because two things have never existed in balance before, does not mean they can't," And with that Joran disappeared from the roof leaving Orin alone to ponder what he had witnessed and just exactly who Joran Roth was.  
  
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Coruscant, one of the most amazing planets in the galaxy. Almost every square kilometre was covered with a mix of ferrocrete and transparsteel; the planet was just one big city. Huge towers rose up thousands of feet into the air, balconies and walkways jutted out from them interconnecting neighbouring buildings, and above them a steady stream of traffic sped its way across the planet.  
  
As Orin Vorn walked down a corridor of the Jedi temple he let his mind open up to the force and felt the flow of life around him. It was an indescribable feeling to be aware of the billions upon billions of humans and aliens who lived upon the city world, from those in the tallest skyscraper to those in the lowest depths who barely classified as human any more. And not only was he aware of the people of the planet, but of all life, plants, mammals, trees, pets, and even the great winged hawk bats that rode the thermals above the Manarai mountains.  
  
If ever I am troubled then all I have to do is let the flow of life wash over me and I feel refreshed as if nothing in the galaxy can be so great that through the force cant understand it, he thought as he reached his destination. Before he could knock the door in front of him opened of its own accord and he found himself staring at a short green skinned alien.  
  
A small smile played over the corners of the Jedi Master's face as he saw the slight look of surprise wash over Orin's face for a second. "Please come in," he said.  
  
As Orin stepped into the Jedi Master's spartan quarters an embarrassed smile played on his face as he thought that the day when a Jedi Master is not aware of when his guest has arrived will be a sad day for the galaxy. Stepping to the centre of the room Orin took in the room's details, the room was not large and there was little furniture to be seen apart from a desk off to his left and one comfy chair next to it. What there was however were books, literally hundreds of books filled the rooms walls, crammed into bookcases or just sitting on the floor.  
  
"As you can see I have a passion for books," the Jedi Master Akai Dooran said. "I find them preferable to a datapad, less impersonal."  
  
Orin nodded his head understanding and was about to broach the subject that had brought him to Master Doorans quarters but Dooran continued.  
  
"I trust your mission to Cambrie went well?"  
  
"The mission was accomplished," Orin responded.  
  
"But there was something about it that has troubled you?" Dooran said perceptually. "Something that has brought you to me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Indicating the floor in the chambers centre Dooran sat cross-legged and Orin followed suit. Carefully Orin studied the Jedi Master, although Orin had seen him around the temple and in session with the council, they had spoken few times and Orin did not know Dooran well. The small green skinned alien was half as tall as Orin; he was humanoid in shape and had a roughly ovoid head with smooth skin and deeply set eyes the colour of night.  
  
"Master," Orin began. "While on Cambrie I encountered another force user there, and he has perplexed me ever since."  
  
"A force user, not a Jedi?" Dooran noted.  
  
"Yes Master, he said he was one of The Fallen."  
  
  
  
The short alien seemed to consider this for a few seconds before replying. "Dangerous are The Fallen, and unstable."  
  
"Master, I have faced Dark Jedi before, I know what they feel like through the force, twisted and evil, like a disease ridden tree. But this one… he was different," Orin responded.  
  
"Perhaps he has only recently fallen, perhaps there is hope of his redemption yet?" Dooran speculated although his eye's seemed to be out of focus as if he were in another time another place, remembering.  
  
"No, he said he had renounced being a Jedi four years past." Taking a deep breath Orin got to the crux of the mater. "Also Master, he was able to draw on both sides of the force, I saw him take down four petty thugs then heal a woman who had been injured in the battle."  
  
Slowly, deliberately, Master Doorans eye's locked with his and Orin saw the Jedi Master visibly sag.  
  
"He said his name was…"  
  
"Joran Roth," the Jedi Master interrupted.  
  
"Then you know him?"  
  
Pulling himself up a little straighter Dooran responded in a low pensive voice. "Joran Roth was one of my greatest students, but also one of my greatest failures."  
  
Hesitantly Orin asked, "Why did he draw on the dark side Master?"  
  
"He did what too many Jedi have done in the past, he let anger and hatred guide him. What I will tell you now Orin Vorn is for your ears only, you will not tell anyone else what I will tell you. Do you understand?"  
  
"I do Master."  
  
"Very good. You see Joran was my Padawan apprentice from the age of sixteen after his first master was slain. For the next five years I trained him in the more advanced ways of the force, I taught him to find his own path and follow the guidance that the force would give him. In that time he excelled and surpassed my expectations.  
  
"However a great tragedy fell on us all a little over four years ago. We were sent to the edge of the unknown regions to track down a rogue Jedi called Vengus Lorn who had turned to the dark side and was threatening to set up his own little empire out there. We tracked him down to a sparsely populated world called Azure, where he had built up quite a following and attempted to bring him back to Coruscant for trial, but he resisted. During the fight Joran acquitted himself admirably for as well as the dark Jedi himself we had to contend with his followers, some of whom he had trained in the dark ways. Eventually Lorn was slain and we were ordered back to Coruscant, although his followers still followed the ways of their master even after his death."  
  
The Jedi Masters eye's seemed to grow smaller and the lids of his eyes closed halfway down across them. "On our return from Azure Joran was reunited with Mira D'kkel his fiancée. They had known each other from childhood and although she was not a Jedi, Mira and Joran connected like they were two halves of a whole. They understood each other perfectly, they knew what the other was thinking, knew when to comfort them and when to leave them alone, if any two beings in this galaxy were made to be together it was these two."  
  
"She died, didn't she?" Orin summarised.  
  
"Yes," the Jedi said in almost a whisper. "Yes she did."  
  
"You see, while we were to hunt down and if necessarily destroy Lorn, the council allowed his followers to go unpunished, after all it was their world and not part of the Republic. That mistake cost us dearly, for they came to Coruscant in search of us. In search of revenge."  
  
"And they killed Mira."  
  
"Joran and Mira were having dinner when they attacked, they used heavy blasters, grenades, rockets and what force skills they had devastating the restaurant and killing twenty people including Mira. Somehow Joran survived, although he was badly injured and spent several weeks in a Bacta tank. After the incident he was no longer the same, it was like half of him had died that night, and in a way it had," Dooran said closing his eyes in sadness at the memory.  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
"Joran went to the council to ask permission to return to Azure to track Lorn's followers down, the council refused. However there was no reckoning with Joran, he decided to go anyway, and as much as I tried to reason with him I couldn't get through. I told him not to give into to anger and hate or he would become as bad as the people who had murdered his beloved Mira, and I think that got through to him, but he still went.  
  
"Somewhere along the way he got in too deep, could find no other solution and gave in to the dark side, and once you take the first step…" The Jedi masters voice trailed off.  
  
"But he didn't fully give himself over to it did he, something stopped him turning completely," Orin stated.  
  
"Yes, what it was I don't know for sure, but I suspect that it was his love for Mira, his memory of her spirit somehow anchored him to the light side of the force. And since then he has been able to use both sides of the force, when angered he unleashes his destructive side but beneath that is the will and the power to do good."  
  
Hesitantly Orin asked, "Master, when was the last time you saw him?"  
  
The short green humanoid smiled. "In person? The last time was shortly after he returned from Azure. He told me he had drawn upon the dark side and that he knew he could never again rejoin the ranks of the Jedi and that he must leave. Later that day he had collected his possessions and was gone."  
  
"But Master," Orin asked slightly puzzled. "The council just let him go?"  
  
"As far as the council are concerned he just walked away from his training after Mira's death and has not been heard from since. Until now?"  
  
"I neglected to mention my meeting him on Cambrie when I made my report to the council."  
  
"And why would you do such a thing?" Dooran inquired.  
  
"It just felt right that I talk to you first."  
  
"The will of the force young one, it is the will of the force. And what will you do now you know about him. Hunt him down; try to bring him back over?"  
  
Orin sighed and shifted uncomfortably his eyes focusing on the row upon row of books that lined the wall before him. "I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that I will see him again."  
  
"Through the force anything is possible," Dooran told him. "Anything!"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"That you and Joran are very much alike, only his life deviated slightly from yours, but you have the same spirit, some would say the same soul and you share one thing that binds you more than anything else in the galaxy, the force. So yes young one, you will meet again, it is your destiny…" 


	2. Part II

(32 years pre ANH)  
  
  
  
The Kethridge system was a small out of the way system, located at the very edge of the mid rim almost straddling the border between the outer rim territories, and only a stones throw from hutt space. Five planets orbit the primary from which the system takes its name from, which in turn was named after the man who first discovered it many eons ago. Of the five planets only two are hospitable, Yorill and Vorisch.  
  
As Joran walked through Alameda, the Yorillian capital city, he wondered what had brought him to this out of the way place. Even as he asked the question of himself he knew the answer, the force. It was not something he could explain, it had not been a vision showing him the way, but a feeling. Something at the back of his mind that told him he had to travel rimward; and so he had moved from system to system, until he found himself here, and somehow he knew that the force wanted him here. Something was going to happen, something important.  
  
It was mid afternoon in the city and the day was bright if not particularly hot, Joran strode through the marketplace near the centre of town, he was clothed in his usual dark trousers, short sleeved black shirt, jacket and boots. His lightsabre hung openly at his belt. At this time of day the marketplace was bustling with activity; large and small prefabricated buildings formed an inner circle, while a huge number of stalls were set up around and in-between the buildings, selling assorted goods and services.  
  
As Joran walked down a row of stalls he looked up and saw the Royal Palace towering above the market. According to his guide book the Yorillian Royal family was one of the oldest in the sector, and the monarch was still the head of the government with the final say in matters of state, although the day to day running of the planet was left to a prime-minister. The royal palace was suitably impressive, built on a hill and surrounded by forest it was by far the largest building on the planet, a tall central column stretched skyward where it reached up and separated into four intricately carved towers spaced around a larger central one. Either side of the central column were two large thick towers that were connected to the central column by a short wall, the two shorter towers stood like guards on either side, and onto the front of each was carved elaborate creatures from the planets mythology.  
  
A large ornate brass fence surrounded the palace, itself with several guard towers spaced evenly around its length. Leading from the palaces main entrance and down into a spacious courtyard were a set of exquisite marble steps and where they ended a long driveway stretched up to the main gate.  
  
Lowering his eyes away from the vista on the hill he strode deeper into the market, with no clear idea of where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do Joran decided it might be wise to find out the mood of the locals. Spying a tavern up ahead he slowly wound his way through the knot of pedestrians and went inside. The building was made of ancient stone, not one of the many temporary prefabs that comprised much of the market.  
  
"What'll it be?" the gruff voiced barman asked as Joran walked up to the bar.  
  
"I'll take an ale please," he responded. The barman grunted and dually pulled a pint of ale for which Joran paid for.  
  
At this time of day the tavern was fairly empty, but there was a small knot of locals sitting in one corner of the bar, Joran decided to sit nearby. The topic of conversation just happened to be about a conference between Yorill and its neighbouring systems, which as best he could figure was to do with the taxation of trade routes. After listening for a few minutes Joran found out that the conference was of primary importance to the region since most of the attendees had been to war which each over similar issues as this several times in the last two decades. Joran listened for the next half an hour or so picking up few useful bits of information, but interplanetary politics did not concern him.  
  
He had just drained his glass when a sensation came flooding through the force to him, fear. Fear and panic. Quickly he rose and headed outside to emerge into a crowded street, people were running around left, right, and centre, all jabbering fearfully and pointing to the sky.  
  
Joran followed their gaze and he could make out a large number of dots rising up into the air from the west, using the force he enhanced his vision and the dots became hundreds of airspeeders. Military airspeeders rising up from the base on the outskirts of the city, and heading this way. Soon they were close enough to make out with the naked eye, half the group continued on toward the marketplace while the rest veered direction and headed for the place.  
  
Before he knew what he was doing Joran had joined the people on the street and was running toward the palace, he didn't know why, but he felt an overwhelming need to go there. He dodged people and vehicles, and animals and wagons as airspeeders buzzed overhead, lasers were fired gouging deep holes in the ground, some buildings were set on fire while others were vaporised, all around him there was chaos.  
  
As Joran neared the Palace a group of speeders settled in the courtyard, the guard towers having already been taken out, and troops poured from their holds to engage pitifully few defenders.  
  
For anyone else it would have taken them an age to reach the palace but to Joran with the force as his ally it only took a fraction of the time. As Joran neared the smoking remains of the main gate a soldier saw him approach and fired at him. Instinctively a bright purple blade materialized out of nowhere to deflect the blaster bolt back along its original path.  
  
'Of all the times I could come here, I have to visit in the middle of a military uprising' he thought bitterly. Clutching his sabre in a double- handed grip he ran through the gates to engage the handful of soldiers outside the palace entrance. A half a second before they fired on him he felt an almost familiar presence through the force.  
  
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There were ten delegates from the sector and their entourages, although from the noise they were making it seemed to Orin to be more like fifty of them seated in the grand hall of the royal palace.  
  
"That's preposterous!" the head of state of Yorden Prime bellowed in a voice that rang out across the grand hall for all to hear. "Why should we pay taxes on a trade route that run right to our system! If we did not open our borders to free trade then there would be little or no trade in the whole of this sector."  
  
"And without our trade your planet would be no more than a fifth rate backwater world, populated by pirates and smugglers," The Aryo of Belivian replied glibly from across the ornate meeting table.  
  
"Gentlebeings please! We are not here to bicker or make slick remarks. We are here to decide on what action we will take in the event that the Republic insists on instituting a tax on trade routes, and to decide what that will mean to us," The King of Yorill told the assembly rising to his feet.  
  
Everyone in the room turned to look at the tall Yorillian, he was past middle age with dark hair greying at the temples and commanding brown eyes. The nominal ruler of Yorill his voice carried a great deal of weight within the sector. "Now, the reason that the senate is thinking of instigating tax's on trade is to help improve the local lines of communication, hyperspace relays, holonet transmitters, and spaceports. Gentlebeings it is for our own good."  
  
The chamber erupted in a thrall of voices, some yelling in protest, and some agreeing with the Yorillian King. Orin closed his ears to it all; of all the places to get sent to it had to be here? I really hate politics, he thought. As the instigator of the conference King Delan of Yorill had requested a mediator from Coruscant, and for some reason best known to themselves the Republic had requested that a Jedi be awarded the responsibility, and so here he was.  
  
Of the Ten representative delegates there were only really three with any power or influence, Relimus, the head of Yorden Prime was the first as his system was the gateway to the more profitable worlds of the mid rim. The second was the Aryo of Belivian whose system owned the largest fleet of cargo ships this side of the core, and finally there was King Delan and the Yorillians who had the largest military force in the sector.  
  
Orin listened half heartedly as an orderly calm was slowly restored to the room and let his mind drift outwards; it was then that he began to detect the first signs of fear among the local populace. Pulling his awareness away from the room he directed it outside the walls of the palace and listened. It was stronger now, fear, panic and worry, and something else, hostility - hostility that was quickly drawing nearer.  
  
Suddenly there was a roar and then the sound of shots being fired from outside as a number of military airspeeders landed in the palaces courtyard. The startled delegates began to rise to their feet, looking around in bewilderment, when the two towering wooden doors to the grand hall were flung open and several armed soldiers marched through them; followed by three men wearing high-ranking insignia. The two palace guards near the door were quickly taken out by the butt end of the soldier's rifles while delegates and their escorts found themselves being covered by the rest of the armed soldiers.  
  
"Gentlebeings, please do not move, for if you do I will be forced to shoot you," bellowed one of the uniformed men as he swept past the soldiers, careful to stay to one side though, out of the line of fire.  
  
Orin was standing at the back of the room half hidden by the Yorillian delegation, almost ignored. He could move to attack right now but for some reason he sensed this wasn't the time, and odds of ten to one are never good, even if you're a Jedi.  
  
"I am General Yori Neros, Commander in Chief of the Yorillian Ground Forces, and to my right is Admiral Valen Chord, Head of the Yorillian Navy," the man who had stepped forward declared. "And you my dear delegates are temporarily my guests," he added with a flourish.  
  
"By what right do you hold us under armed guard!" a voice bellowed from the head of the table.  
  
"Why my dear King Delan? By the right of history of course, do you not recognise a military coup when you see one?"  
  
Delan moved away from his seat and boldly strode forward, his face had gone a deep red and he was incensed by what he was hearing. "There has not been a Military coup in the past three millennia," he declared.  
  
A look of scorn crossed General Neros's face. "Well your Highness times change. As of now I assume the title of ruler of Yorill and all lands and property that comes with the tile. You my dear King are out of a job."  
  
"You cannot, the people will not stand for this. They will not be ruled by the military again, we have moved beyond…"  
  
"Oh please, my men now control all strategic military positions, and under ancient law my claim to the throne is perfectly legal. In a little under two days I will officially be sworn in as the new ruler of Yorill and then the people will have no choice but to accept me as there ruler!" Neros stated.  
  
"I do not believe you have the full support of the military," Delan countered, "I will gather forces against you, I will oppose you at every turn!"  
  
"You forget one thing your majesty," Neros grinned evilly. "You have to be alive to do such a thing."  
  
It all seemed to happen in slow motion; Orin felt what Neros was about to do but only a split second before it happened. He leapt forward lightsabre already in hand just as Neros gave a signal and one of the soldiers shifted his weapon over to the where the King was now standing and fired. The distance was too far and Orin saw the king stager backward, a black charred hole in his chest. Orin reached his side just as the king fell to the floor, dead.  
  
For a second there was a stunned silence in the chamber, then an agonised scream broke out as a young raven haired woman wearing a figure hugging royal purple gown sped forward to kneel beside the dead ruler of Yorill, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
Orin brought his lightsabre up into the ready position, but before he could ignite it a voice said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, not if you don't want the Princess to suffer the same fight as her father."  
  
Orin halted as he found himself and the young woman covered by a loose semicircle of guards, they were spread out and each had his weapon pointed at the woman.  
  
"Even a Jedi cannot guarantee to stop all the laser blasts before one hits the Princess, can he?" General Neros observed smugly. "Now drop the lightsabre and kick it over here."  
  
With little choice Orin did as he was told and as he did he caught a hint of a familiar presence though the force.  
  
"Right," the General said, "Now as for the rest of you gentlebeings, you will be staying on Yorill until your respective governments see fit to… shall we say, reimburse me for your passage home?  
  
"Mr Jedi would you be so kind as to move over there," Neros indicated to a place by the far wall. Orin obeyed moving past the sill-sobbing woman who was now looking at the General with fierce hatred in her eyes.  
  
Neros pulled a blaster from his belt and pointed it at Orin. "Now you understand why I cannot simply leave a Jedi free to run around don't you? So that is why I'm going to have to put you to sleep, and I only know one way to induce such a thing, I believe you call it a healing trance? In return for your cooperation in this matter I give you my word I will not harm anymore of these people."  
  
As Orin's mind began to wonder how the general knew so much about Jedi healing trances Neros fired, and a scarlet bolt of energy came zinging towards him…  
  
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The blaster bolt flew straight and true and as Orin prepared himself for the impact a glowing purple lightsaber blade slashed in front of him and deflected the blaster bolt neatly into the ceiling leaving a smoking hole. This time Orin did not hesitate, he dived off to the right as Neros fired again, only narrowly missing being hit. As he landed heavily on the cold marble floor of the chamber he stretched out his hand and called his lightsabre to him.  
  
Meanwhile, the purple-white lightsabre spun in an arc over the group of soldier's heads and came to rest smartly in the palm of Joran Roth's outstretched hand. As the soldiers spun to face him he charged and leapt into the air somersaulting over there heads. As he did so, his slashed out with his lightsaber twice, and two soldiers fell to the floor spilt in half.  
  
Joran landed in a low crouch and spun round to face the remaining soldiers who were totally caught off balance by his attack, he lashed out once more with his glowing purple sabre chopping the nearest soldier down, and then leapt backwards as the remaining nine soldiers turned and fired.  
  
Orin came up with his lightsabre ignited and blocked Neros's third shot, then through the force he called the rogue General's blaster to him and slashed it across with his lightsaber before picking Neros up in a force grip and flinging him across the room.  
  
As the General landed in a heap against the far wall Orin took a quick glance around the room, the other two uniformed officers had dived for cover and were even now yelling into their comlinks for reinforcements. The delegates had also, for the most part, found cover behind the grand table in the centre of the room, all apart from the Princess who was still slumped protectively over her dead father.  
  
Orin moved over to her as Joran deflected or dodged fire from the remaining soldiers, gently he picked her up, she was slack in his arms and there was no sign of life in her eyes any more. Two of the soldiers broke of their attack on Joran and fired on him as he shielded the princess with his body. Quickly he moved backwards and laid the Princess behind an over turned side-table before turning his full attention on his two attackers.  
  
Almost casually blocking blaster bolts he advanced towards them and saw the disconcerted look on their faces as they backed off a little; right into the path of the chair Orin had sent flying at them from the other side of the room. The two men went down hard, their blasters lying from their grips and before they knew it Orin was upon them, using the hilt of his sabre he quickly rendered them unconscious. He preferred not to kill if he didn't have to.  
  
Suddenly his danger sense tingled and he turned to find a soldier about to fire on him, ducking the oncoming stream of crimson energy bolts he rolled forward and came up just short of the soldier. Staring up into the soldiers alarmed face, he brought his lightsabre up slicing the man's weapon arm off at the joint before backhanding the man across the face sending him spinning to the floor.  
  
And then it was over.  
  
Orin found himself staring at Joran, who was surrounded by the fallen forms of Neros's soldiers and breathing heavily. "What are you doing here?" he asked clearly surprised to see the Fallen Jedi again. But then master Dooran's words came flooding back to him. 'You will meat again… It is your destiny!'  
  
"Saving you, by the looks of things," Joran calmly replied, giving no hint of his own surprise at seeing Orin again.  
  
"Thanks, I appreciate it."  
  
"Sure, any idea what we do now? This is my first Military uprising, I'm a little hazy on protocol," Joran remarked as his dark eyes scanned the room, taking in the scared and confused faces of the delegates.  
  
"First let's get these people out of here, there's a transport on the palace roof," Orin suggested taking charge of the situation. "Then we can figure out why a trade conference has turned into a bloodbath, and what in the name of the Sith you're doing here?"  
  
Joran surveyed the carnage around the room and nodded his ascent. "Let's move."  
  
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Orin carefully led the way out of the grand hall and was relieved to note that no soldiers were waiting in ambush, although the sounds of blaster fire could be heard echoing down the palaces corridors. Neither was there any sign of General Neros or the other two officers, apparently they had decided to flee and leave their men to face the consequences.  
  
Quickly and quietly Orin led the way to the back staircase on this level that would lead them straight to the roof, behind him came the forty or so delegates and their aides who had survived the fire fight. Joran was bringing up the rear.  
  
Orin had taken point because he knew the palace layout well, but also because if they did run into the odd guard or two he would be able to deal with them without having to kill them. A lightsabre could take a hand or arm off and cauterise the wound at the same time so loss of life could be averted, he had noticed that Joran's opponents rarely survived, and while they probably deserved it he liked to avoid unnecessary deaths if it was possible.  
  
While Orin stealthily moved up the staircase ahead, Joran reached out through the force and scanned behind them, so far as he could sense they were in the clear at the moment, although there was a fire fight going on two floors below them which was probably slowing any pursuit down. In fact, so intent was he on what was happening behind him that Joran almost walked headlong into the young woman who had suddenly stopped in front of him.  
  
Startled she turned to face him, her eyes were wide and startled, and he recognised her as being the woman who had knelt beside the fallen man in the great hall.  
  
"Hey lady, this really isn't a great place to stop," he growled in annoyance.  
  
She looked up at him, her dark black hair cascaded down her shoulders and obscured her delicate face while a solitary tear crept down her cheek from her sad green eyes. "Does it matter where I stop anymore, what's the point, its over isn't it?"  
  
Slightly confused Joran asked, "What's over?"  
  
"Everything," she said bitterly. "My life, my planet, my family. Everything!"  
  
"That man in the hall, he was your father?" Joran hesitantly asked, already sure of the answer.  
  
"Yes, he was the King of Yoril. And I am… I was, the Princess Jadala," she told him sadly.  
  
Normally Joran had little sympathy for anyone, that had been bled out of him long ago, but he understood what the girl was going through. He'd been there himself, and even after five years the pain of his loss was as fresh as it had been the day Mira had died. "Look your highness, it's not over yet. I'm sorry about your father and nothing that I say can ease your loss. I know, I've been there. But now is not the time to give up. If you do that then his death was for nothing, and the man who murdered him has won and will go unpunished. Is that how you want things to stand?"  
  
She seemed to consider his words for a moment, and then a steely look of resolution crept across her face, her eyes hardened and she seemed to pull herself up straighter. "No," she said defiantly.  
  
"Good, then the first thing we do is get out of here alive. After that we start thinking about making your fathers murder pay…"  
  
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Orin reached the roof of the east wing of the palace to find it unsurprisingly guarded by four of Neros's soldiers. Two military airspeeders sat on the roof pad off to the right; beside them was a larger blocky civilian transport, which was exactly what they were looking for.  
  
Striking with the lightning fast reflex's only a Jedi possesses, Orin struck the first guard down, destroying the mans assault rifle in the process. Pivoting on his right foot he lashed out with his left and sent another soldier sprawling to the floor, meanwhile the two soldiers on the left had been far enough away from him so as to be able to bring their weapons up. Skilfully Orin deflected the two shots aimed at him before moving a step closer to the men, and before they could get off a second volley, Orin had scooped the blaster rifles out of their hands using the force and sent them tumbling over the side of the palace. Two swift blows took care of the men, and as the delegates cautiously arrived on the roof Orin surveyed his handiwork. Four down and he hadn't even had to kill anyone.  
  
As the last of the frightened delegates arrived on the roof Orin had the door to the transport open and began loading people onto it. It was one of the larger freight models and would take just about everyone, although it would be standing room only.  
  
The last two people on the roof were Joran and the Princess, and as he watched them arrive he sensed that something had passed between them. He sensed a lot of fear and pain emanating from her, but also a strong sense of defiance, and from Joran he caught an impression of… could it be… sympathy?  
  
Joran sealed off the door to their part of the roof and then moved over to stand beside Orin and Jadala. "Okay now we have transport where do we go?"  
  
As they though about their next move a slow feeling of dread began to creep over Orin, a feeling he could not put his finger on, but somehow he knew time was running out.  
  
"I know where to go," Jadala told them suddenly.  
  
"Where?" chorused both Orin and Joran.  
  
"There's a small supply base not far from hear, the General who commands it was one of my fathers most loyal supporters," the diminutive princess answered.  
  
"Are you sure it's safe?" Joran asked.  
  
"No, but I don't have a better idea, do you?" she challenged him defiantly, her green eyes flaring.  
  
Joran almost smiled, she's already started fighting back, he though. "Well, I guess…." He trailed off, his face becoming an impassive mask. Both he and Orin turned back towards the door to the roof, just in time to watch as it suddenly blew outward as if wrenched off its hinges by a massive whirlwind and thrown to the floor mere feet in front of them.  
  
A tall humanoid figure stepped through the doorway, he was dressed all in black with a flowing scarlet robe draped round his shoulders. His face was cowled and hidden, and in his hand was a glowing blood-red lightsaber.  
  
Joran pushed the Princess behind him, then stepped forward to face this new threat, "Get to the transport," he told her. "Get it warmed up and ready to fly!"  
  
The Dark Jedi, began to slowly circle Orin and Joran twirling the lightsabre in his left hand as he went. "I expected to deal with one Jedi, but not two. I know about you Orin Vorn, special envoy to Yorill, but you I don't know," he said pointing to Joran and growing in a low voice.  
  
Matching the Dark Jedi step for step Joran responded, "My name is Joran Roth, and you are?"  
  
Recognition bloomed beneath the hood of the fallen Jedi's robe, his cruel features twisted in a grotesque smile. Dark piecing eyes looked into Joran's as he said, "My name is Akin Tharll, and I believe we share something in common Joran Roth."  
  
"Oh and what might that be?" Joran replied sceptically, absently fingering his still unlit lightsaber.  
  
"A little planet called Azure, and a certain restaurant on Coruscant."  
  
Anger, rage, and hatred exploded inside of Joran, and before Orin could stop him he leapt forward igniting his lightsabre and charged the Dark Jedi. His abrupt change of mood and sudden attack caught Tharll off guard, and he staggered back under the attack, bringing his lightsabre up to bear only just in time to fend of Joran's savage opening blows. Joran pressed on almost recklessly, swinging wild but powerful blows, while Tharll backed off slowly drawing nearer to the roofs edge.  
  
Joran acted on impulse, all conscious thought was cast aside as he found himself caught up in a maelstrom of emotion; of hatred, anger, and despair. Somehow this Dark Jedi had had something to do with Mira's death, he'd been at Azure when Joran and master Dooran had taken down the rogue Jedi, and he'd tracked them back to Coruscant where he had played some part in extracting his revenge for his Masters death.  
  
Deftly Tharll ducked and Joran's lightsaber arced over his head, with Joran momentarily caught off balance Tharll swung his own blade and almost too slowly Joran dived out of the way, although not fast enough to stop Tharll's crimson blade gouging a deep cut in his right side. He hit the floor hard and rolled out to the left as the blood red lightsabre was driven down into the roof right where his head had been. The blade penetrated the hard durocrete roof up to almost half its length, melting it like slag before Tharll pulled it back out and renewed his attack.  
  
Now Joran was back on his feet but he was still reeling from Thrall's attack, and the deep cut in his side ached painfully. He blocked a blow aimed at his midriff, then danced out of the way of another as Tharll pressed his advantage, then, as Joran jumped a low blow aimed at his knees Tharll used the force to throw Joran backwards through the air.  
  
Landing heavily on his back Joran's lightsabre was jerked from his grasp and the purple blade skittered across the roof out of reach, before he had time to react Tharll was on top of him, he brought his saber crashing down, ready to split Joran from head to toe…  
  
There was the sound of two lightsabre's meeting, and a flash of light as the blood red saber met a shining silvery/white blade. Using all his strength Orin repelled the attack throwing Tharll back, then swinging a blow at Tharll's legs he moved forward giving Joran the time he would need to recover.  
  
The savage lightsaber battle had been going only seconds, and Orin had been able to only stand and watch as Joran furiously attacked the Dark Jedi. In fact both of them had been so caught up in fighting against each other that they had completely overlooked Orin's presence. Until now.  
  
Orin attacked relentlessly, moving Tharll back to the edge of the roof, where after blocking the luminous white blade he somersaulted overhead and spun and kicked Orin square in the back sending the young Jedi over the roofs edge.  
  
Orin hung there by one hand, the other still clutching the lightsaber. Tharll stood over him, lightning beginning to play over the ends of the Dark Jedi's fingers as a thin humourless smile played over his lips. A smile that died as from behind him a raging scream was emitted and Joran Roth once more charged forward. Tharll spun, lightning shot out at Joran, but Joran didn't falter, he just tore on, his rage driving him forward. His lightsaber slashed in at Tharll who barley blocked it in time, then another blow and another followed, each strike getting fiercer all the time. And then, as Tharll deflected Joran's blade high, Joran lashed out with the force drawing upon all his anger and knocked Tharll clear off the roof, sending him plummeting to the earth below.  
  
Instead of falling head first to the ground Tharll spread his arms and legs out and dropped horizontally, and just before he hit the ground he used the force and pushed the ground back creating a cushion of air to soften his fall.  
  
Joran hauled Orin up as Tharll lay twitching on the ground below, Orin saw the look on Joran's face and put his hand firmly on his shoulder. "It would be stupid to go after him, are you going to fight the soldiers down there as well?"  
  
"If I have to," Joran snapped, his eyes blazing and his body quivering.  
  
"And what about the rest of us?" Orin indicated the transport.  
  
Joran's face relaxed and his breathing became normal again; getting himself under control he nodded at Orin. "I know your right…" That's what Mira would tell me to do, to take care of the other first. "but..."  
  
"There will be another time… but not now," Orin turned and hurried to the now warmed up transport.  
  
"Another time... but not now…" Joran echoed. 


	3. Part III

They sat in the war room, gathered around a large holographic map table. Empty caf mugs were strewn across it, and for the moment it showed only a dim two-dimensional view of the Yorillian capital and surrounding lands.  
  
They had made good time in reaching the small military outpost about fifty miles outside the city, and were relieved to find that General Neros's forces had not yet taken control of the base. The Commanding officer, General Anston, had in fact welcomed them with open arms, relieved that the princess was safe and saddened at the loss of King Delan he had found quarters for everyone and had let them rest and freshen up.  
  
Now there were four of them seated around the table, Orin, Joran, Jadala, and Anston himself, and for the last half an hour they had been discussing what they should do next.  
  
"Do you know what Neros's position is within the Capital?" Jadala asked. She was almost a changed person now, as if a shower and a change of cloths had washed all the hurt and pain away, her hair was tightly bound up at the back and she now wore a nondescript black jumpsuit.  
  
Anston, a tall dark skinned man with a perpetually scowling face looked up from his mug of caf. "From what my sources tell me he has the entire city under his control and has imposed martial law on the citizenry."  
  
"What is the rest of the Military's position?" Orin asked the General. "Are they going to support Neros's claim to power?"  
  
"Shortly before you arrived Neros sent a planet wide transmission to the Armed Forces announcing his take over of power. Shortly after that I began to contact the heads of the armed forces," the General told them.  
  
"And?" Jadala asked impatiently.  
  
"And it would seem that the majority of the services are adopting a wait and see policy, chances are if Neros goes unchallenged and consolidates his power the rest of the military will fall in line behind him."  
  
"So for the moment we only have to deal with those forces loyal to Neros," Orin clarified.  
  
"Right, which would seem to be the garrisons worth of troops that are directly under his command around the capital, and at least one Capital class ship from the space defence force," said the General.  
  
"Okay, so what force do we have," Jadala addressed Anston.  
  
"At this present time we have this one supply base, but several of the outlying Army base commanders have hinted they would be willing to help oppose Neros," the General answered with a scowl.  
  
"So what are our options?" Joran spoke for the only the second time since their council of war had begun.  
  
Anston cleared his throat, "The way I see it we have two options open to us. The first is we can gather as many troops and equipment as possible and launch a full scale attack against Neros's positions and in all likelihood start a civil war that will spread around the planet. Or, we can attempt to cut the head of the snake and hope it withers and dies."  
  
"I guess option two is the preferred option then," Joran said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Which means gaining access to the palace, and to Neros. Not to mention his backer."  
  
"His backer?" Anston looked confused.  
  
"It would appear that he has enlisted the aid of a Dark Jedi, or more likely it's the other way round," Orin told him.  
  
Anston once more gazed into his almost empty caf mug, swirling the dregs around as he considered this new information. "That would explain a lot, I had a hard time believing that Neros would try something like this on his own. I presume no one else knows about this Dark Jedi?"  
  
"If you mean the general population or the rest of the military then I doubt it, it would not look good for his image," Orin speculated.  
  
"Very well then, I may be able to deal with Neros's troops inside the palace but you gentlemen will have to deal with the Dark Jedi."  
  
"Our pleasure," Joran said in a low and dangerous voice.  
  
"In that case I suggest you retire and get some sleep, we will talk again in the morning, by then I will hopefully have something new for you," Anston said.  
  
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Joran found himself wondering through the base late that night; apart from the occasional sentry it was quiet and peaceful, in stark contrast to his soul. His emotions were still raging, thoughts of violence and revenge cascading through his mind like an unstoppable waterfall. He had thought he had destroyed all of Lorn's dark disciples, all of Mira's killers, but it would seem that he had been wrong, and one more remained.  
  
And so once more thoughts that he had put aside four years ago had returned to haunt him, the screams of the dying in the restaurant had returned to haunt his dreams.  
  
'It wasn't your fault' something inside his head said in Mira's voice. 'After four years you shouldn't still be blaming yourself.'  
  
Whether it was really Mira, or some phantasm that his own tortured mind had made up he didn't know, didn't care really, it was just nice to hear her voice again. "It was partially my fault Mir," he told her.  
  
'No. It was Lorn's followers fault, they are to blame. Them and only them!'  
  
"Maybe, maybe it doesn't matter anymore. The fact is I lost you, and even with all the powers of the force I can't change that. Even with all my Jedi training I couldn't save you."  
  
'You can't save everyone love, it's just not possible. But you can save some people, you have been given a great gift, one that if you choose to use it for good you can help people with.'  
  
"You always were an idealist," he told the phantasm in his mind.  
  
'Maybe, but it doesn't mean I'm not right, think about it love,' she told him.  
  
Deep in his own thoughts Joran wandered outside the base and strode over to a small hillock just inside the perimeter, he was almost at the top before he saw the small figure sitting huddled against the night looking out at the horizon.  
  
"How long have you been sitting up here?" he asked.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Jadala spun at the sound of his voice.  
  
"I'm just out for a walk," Joran answered.  
  
"Why are you here?" she demanded angrily. "Did Orin send you, he worries too much."  
  
"Whoa, your majesty hang on a minute. Like I said, I'm just out for a walk," Joran stated flatly. "And yeah, from what I've seen of Orin he does tend to worry too much, I think he thinks its part of his Jedi'ly duty."  
  
A small almost undetectable grin cracked the edges of Jadala's angry expression.  
  
"I didn't mean to interrupt your solitude, I'll leave."  
  
Joran turned to go and Jadala hesitated before saying, "No it's okay, I could do with the company."  
  
He was tempted to tell her that she might want company but he was not sure that he did, instead he sat down beside her. The moon was full tonight and there were plenty of stars in the heavens to shine down on the desolate landscape before them. Row after row of unploughed dirty brown fields played out as far as the eye could see, once it had been rich agricultural land, but now it was dry and barren.  
  
"You're not like Orin are you," Jadala said; a statement not a question.  
  
"No, not anymore," Joran replied without looking at her.  
  
"But you're not a Dark Jedi either."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" he asked her, his words almost lost in the breeze.  
  
"Because you helped save me," she stated gazing out at the horizon.  
  
For a long while they sat in silence, the night wind howling around them, chilling them to the bone, yet neither of them was inclined to return to the shelter of the base. Joran turned to study the young woman who sat beside him, she was different to the frightened girl that he had talked to on the stairs of the palace.  
  
Most people found it took a lot of time to pull themselves back together after the death of a loved one, but circumstances had dictated that she not have the luxury of time. Since her near breakdown at the palace he had not seen her cry or grieve for her father, that would come later he knew from experience, right now there were too many things to occupy her mind. Like how to retake control of her planet, and how to avenge her fathers death.  
  
"Why did you leave the Jedi?" she said finally, tilting her head to look at him.  
  
"I lost someone I cared for," he hesitantly replied.  
  
"They were murdered?"  
  
"Yes,"  
  
"So you went and avenged their death, and turned away from the Jedi?" Jadala guessed.  
  
"Yeah, I avenged her death. Or so I thought," Joran told her in a low voice.  
  
"The Jedi on the roof?" she asked him gently.  
  
"Yes," was all he said.  
  
"He was responsible partly for my father's death as well. You're going to kill him?" she wanted to know.  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"Good."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
Orin stepped into the briefing room trying to stifle a yawn; he failed and used his hand to cover his failure. Joran, Jadala, Anston, and several senior officers Orin didn't recognise were already waiting for him.  
  
"Glad you could make it Mr Vorn," Anson said.  
  
"Sorry, rough night," Orin replied offhandedly.  
  
"Well in your absence some of us have been busy and we now have a partial plan on how to stop Neros. During the night we have received a battalions worth of troops from the local commanders on the mainland, including heavy tanks, just about enough to take on the garrison and distract them so you can launch your attack on the palace."  
  
"What about air attacks?"  
  
"Well Neros has only one star ship, although it is a cruiser. However I have taken the necessary steps to make sure she does not interfere in our little uprising," Anston said almost smiling.  
  
"Uprising?" Orin asked confused.  
  
"Yes, uprising," Jadala said.  
  
"You see, we've decided to hold off attacking until tomorrow night, after Neros is officially sworn in as the new ruler of Yorill," Joran explained.  
  
"Ah, I don't get it. Why?"  
  
"All will be explained later, now we have work to do," Anston said smiling for the fist time since Orin had met him. About two hours later they had a plan formulated and Anston stepped out to start issuing orders to the battalion commanders personally and the group disbanded.  
  
Later Orin found Joran alone in the bases gym practicing against a remote. "Trying to burn off a little bit of aggression?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, something like that," Joran said as his lightsabre moved in a flurry of light to deflect a volley of fire from the remote. "Up for it?"  
  
Orin unclipped his lightsabre and took off his robe. "Okay,"  
  
Joran turned to face him, ignoring the remote. Orin ignited his lightsabre and moved towards him. "You going to turn that thing off?" Orin asked indicating the remote.  
  
"No, it adds to the challenge."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Orin swept his lihhtsaber down from the guard position and sent it arching through the air so unblocked it would slice Joran's legs off. Almost casually Joran blocked it, a slit second later Orin reversed the stroke and aimed high but was also blocked out. The remote fired at Joran who out of pure reflex blocked the bolt and then split the droid in half. "Oops," he muttered.  
  
Orin stepped black then renewed his attack with a lunge followed by low strike, both of which Joran deflected, then suddenly Joran jumped from defence to attack with a high low combination. Orin caught the change through the force, that of barely controlled aggression, but nevertheless had trouble in defending the attack. Joran's blade cut in from the side, then he switched to attacking Orin's unprotected head. Blade's flashing, intermingled with each other, they continued back and forth, Joran attacking, Orin defending, for what seemed like hours but in reality had only be about fifteen minutes.  
  
Finally Joran stopped, he was breathing heavily. "Guess I did need to blow off some steam, thanks," he told Orin.  
  
"Your welcome," Orin said almost surprised by the sudden abating of Joran's aggression. "How do you do that?" he asked.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Switch your anger on and off like that?"  
  
"Easy, I just remember the past," he replied with a bitter smile.  
  
Orin looked thoughtful before replying, "You know I just don't get you."  
  
Joran looked amused, "Really, why ever not?"  
  
"I've met a few Dark Jedi, and quite a few people who have dabbled in the dark side of the force, but you're different. With them they felt evil, or corrupted, like a slowly decaying tree, but you don't feel like that."  
  
"Really, and why is that?" Joran asked intrigued.  
  
"I don't know, with the others there were always two sides of themselves in conflict, with one eventually emerging the stronger. You however don't seem that way."  
  
Joran again gave Orin a bitter smile, "Maybe deep down it's because I've accepted who I really am."  
  
"You may have accepted who you are, but you don't seem to have accepted what happened in the past. And I think that's why you're the way you are."  
  
"So what are you saying, that if I accept the past then one side of the force will claim me over completely?" Joran said angrily.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Well, it could be a while then," Joran said before walking away.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
Akin Tharll floated in a bacta tank fully conscious, and fumed at his defeat by the accursed Jedi; the Jedi had been his masters downfall, they would not be his. He had been prepared for one Jedi and was sure he could have defeated Vorn, but the appearance of Joran Roth had thrown him. Not particularly because of the fact that he had then had to fight two Jedi, but because of the fact that Joran Roth was unlike any other force user he had ever encountered. He attacked with an unabridged fury that could only come from the dark side, and yet he stood in defence of Vorn and the Princess, these facts had Tharll totally vexed. The idea of trying to turn him completely to the dark side briefly occurred to him, but he discounted it almost immediately, no, Roth wants to kill me not join me.  
  
But he will fail, I will eliminate both of them, I was ill prepared last time and underestimated them, but not so again. Tomorrow Neros will assume rulership of the planet and I will be healed and ready to deal with the upstart Jedi… and then I will succeed where my master failed.  
  
While Thrall fumed silently in the bacta tank, Neros himself was busy. So far things had gone pretty much to plan, with the exception of the Jedi's intervention. No matter, that was Tharll's concern now. However the Princess had escaped, and that was his. Because she would undoubtedly seek help, already he was getting reports of forces massing against him to the south of the city.  
  
That however would all be solved after tomorrow, after he was sworn in as ruler then the rest of the military would fall in line behind him and he would crush anyone left who opposed him. Yes, all he had to do was survive one more day, the only problem was his troops were spread out; half of them were on the streets of the city keeping the peace. Perhaps it was time to move a few out to the south to keep track of any forces that might array against him although he doubted that there was any one commander who could cause him any serious harm. Yes, all he had to do was hold out until tomorrow. 


End file.
